Game Night
by LuckyAsLockhart
Summary: One-Shot: Clary and Jace having ping-pong match. Mild commentary from Isabelle. Severe PDA demonstrations. Strong support from Simon. AU/AH Based on a headcanon of mine.


_**Hello, to whoever is reading this, thank you for thinking my writing was worth your time! Hahaha. This is my first time writing at anything (really) and this wouldn't be going up right now if it weren't for rippingbutterflywings. You rock man! Thank you for your support, it reeaallyy helped me. Okay then, enjoy!**_

Okay. She is beating the shit out of me.

I should have seen this one coming, though.

"Point for me!" she says. Again.

Jesus Christ, when will this suffering be over?

"Oh, don't frown, you'll get wrinkles that way," she says. And then she winks. Bitch.

She knows I hate losing, and she's enjoying it. Ugh.

"Come on, Jacey! Don't be so sad. Yeah, you're losing against Clary, who _never wins at anything,_ but come on!" cheers Isabelle from the chairs next to the table. Next to her is Simon, her boyfriend, who gives me a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks, Iz," I deadpan.

"You're welcome," she says with a teasing smile.

After Clary scores another point, I decide that I've had enough.

_I'm gonna kick her ass like in Mario Kart, _I think to myself.

"Okay, Fray, get ready," I say as I'm about to serve the ball.

God, I hate ping pong so much.

"I'm ready, Wayland," she says with determination in her voice.

"Hold on!" says Simon. "Remember people, there are only two sets left. And, if Jace wins both, he wins the game 13 to 12." He also keeps count of the scores.

"Got it," Clary and I say in unison, never taking our eyes off each other.

"Proceed, then," says Simon.

After that, I serve, and we go on like this for about 10 minutes (they're the most excruciating 10 minutes of my life) until Clary misses the ball and I score a point.

"FINALLY, YES!" screams Isabelle.

Clary gives her a glare so hard it shuts her up. But Isabelle has a smile again after Clary turns her face from her.

"Okay, Fray. Bring it," I say, edging her with my hand.

"Oh, I'll bring it, alright," she mumbles, and I barely hear her say it. Barely.

She serves, and I hit the ball as fast as I can. It goes on like this for 20 minutes. In case you didn't know, we take games very seriously, whether it's a game of Pictionary (in which she teams up with Isabelle and yet manages to lose all the time), Clue (Isabelle always manages to beat us; we still don't know how), or even Monopoly (we never win. Simon does. Don't ask).

"Go Clary!" cheers Simon.

"_No. _Go Jace!" says Isabelle. They then start bickering about who should win. We, of course, pay no attention to them.

"Clary deserves to win!" states Simon.

"So? I still think Jace should win," says Isabelle.

"No he _doesn't_! He wins at almost everything we play! Remember the Just Dance game two weeks ago?"

"I do," she says, guffawing at the memory of Simon and Clary flailing their arms around while dancing to Toxic. She herself had a decent score, but I got the 5 stars and wiped the floor with the three of them.

But it is in this moment, when they recall the "Embarrassment Night" (as Simon puts it), that Clary gets distracted for a moment with their conversation and I manage to score my final point. It happens in slow motion, really: the realization that she lost dawning on Clary, the excitement that Isabelle shows by jumping from her chair and dancing around the table, Simon huffing at my win whilst mumbling things like "no fair" or "can't believe it," and my fists bumping the air.

"Fuck yes!" Isabelle and I scream while Clary says "No!"

"Sorry, Fray. Maybe next time," I say, winking at her and pulling her to me by grabbing her waist.

She huffs in exasperation. "I just thought that I was gonna win," she tells me, and then pouts in annoyance.

"Come on, at least you get a consolation prize," I say, bringing my face closer to hers.

"Oh, really?" she asks.

"Really," I reply.

"What could it be?" she asks and smiles knowingly, but still waits for an answer.

"This," I say, bringing our lips together and getting lost in ourselves.

"Oh my god, cut the PDA demonstration!" says Isabelle while covering her face with her hands. Simon just checks his phone. Bless him.

We simply ignore her pleas, though.

Ping pong might not be so bad after all.

_**Please let me know what you think of this! :)xx**_


End file.
